


Mad as the Mist and Snow

by findtheword



Series: Solas/Inquisitor [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, The Fade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-22
Updated: 2017-05-22
Packaged: 2018-11-03 11:44:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10966539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/findtheword/pseuds/findtheword
Summary: The last stand of Haven fell, and so it seems did the one hope left for the Inquisition. Hana Lavellan awakes in a featureless wasteland of ice, snow and mist, unknown to the rest of her colleagues and friends. All except one.





	Mad as the Mist and Snow

_"Wake up. You must wake up."_

The voice prickled through the frosty darkness of Hana's mind, firing down each synapse in pulses not unlike the mark on her hand. It made it so hard to concentrate on the blissful nothingness that had taken her since the avalanche had claimed her body. Impossible, actually, and her eyes flickered open by degrees, the liquid at the corners already mostly frozen. She immediately curled up, pain rushing through her body at the movement - pain that proved she was still alive, and that she still could fight. Slowly, ever so slowly, she got her feet beneath her and pushed up, lurching forward unsteadily before finding precarious balance on the powdery snow. 

*** *** ***

Chaos had reigned as Haven fell - as might be expected - and Solas barely had time to make it out of there himself, never mind be present to drag the Elven woman out of there as well. It was only as the survivors began to set up camp that news began to spread about a notable absence. And as the rumour spread, so despair began to set in. Despite ... everything he had planned, the sound of utter desperation was not a pleasant one. These people barely seemed to know they were alive and yet they made the threat of losing that life sound so terrible; it was a level of emotion that he hadn't witnessed since his awakening. It was one that ... was unlikely to stay his hand in the long run, but - against the odds - compassion ran deep in the Dread Wolf. He would try to make these last days, weeks, months, maybe years, as palatable as he could for all who lived through them. He was fixing a mistake not becoming a ruthless destroyer of worlds. And that all began with making sure that the elf who bore his mark, his anchor, was safe to use it again. Corypheous needed to be stopped, and without him being at full power, she was the one who needed to do it. Of that, he was sure.

Not only that, but he had also become ... closer to the woman than he had expected to. She surprised him at every turn. At first he had been unimpressed to say the least that she found it necessary to carve out her path in life with a pair of daggers and nothing more. Other than the fact she survived the Fade, contact with the raw power of his orb and the mark establishing itself into her very core, she seemed thoroughly unnuanced. She was Dalish, and tiresomely proud of the fact - her grand heritage and collective elven history. How could he even listen to her with a straight face even as he observed her dark blue vallaslin shifting and changing over her face with the different muscle movements? At first he had unwisely judged her to be a naive slave to her clan's fairy-tale history, more so than any god marked out on her features.

Things, of course, hadn't ended there. He had ended up travelling with her as she strove to increase awareness of the Inquisition and bolster its reputation, even if they barely amounted to a large indefensible village; he had seen first hand the keen interest she had not only in the physical world around her but even that she didn't have the capacity to experience. Slowly she had become a regular feature outside his cabin, engaging him in fascinating conversations - things that he would consider quite basic about the Fade, but stories she listened to with bated breath. Over the past couple of weeks she had taken to having dinner in his hut, the food pushed aside as she asked question after question about the Fade, his travels there, even his spirit friends. At any moment Solas had expected her to laugh or judge him - but she never had. Even the questions she asked were astute, showing a level of insight he didn't think this new breed of peoples that roamed Thedas - and especially those elves so mired in the lies they comforted themselves with - were capable of. Yes, she surprised him. And as the possibility sank in that he would not see her again, that he would once again have to act the elven, apostate outsider, risk the possibility of being driven out altogether, he found at the core of the complex emotions a bead of genuine sadness and mourning.

No, he would not lose her - would not allow her to be lost. Not just yet.

Of course he did help with the most terribly wounded as they first set up their camp - appearances, after all, were important to keep - but it wasn't long before he managed to feign exhaustion himself. He retired to a secluded bedroll and sent himself into a deep, purposeful sleep. If she were in the Fade, he would be able to find her; and he would shake her out of that realm for as long and as many times as it took. So long as she wanted to stay in this realm, he could add his intent to that wish and help her stay in control. With eyes tight closed, a small smile dragged itself across his sleeping features. _Got her._

*** *** ***

'Which way?' Hana wondered to herself, each direction looking as featureless as the last. It was impossible to know, but she did realise that if she stayed put her chances of survival were nil. And, considering what everyone now called her - what her mark meant to Thedas - she hated to think what her demise would do to the world. It was just plain weird to think of on a normal day, but in that moment it helped galvanise her to action. Therefore, choosing a direction that seemed to be slightly downward sloping, she struck out, dragging tired, broken limbs behind her. 

It seemed like an age of nothing but mist and ice, icicles of blood in her chest and fractured bones splinted with ice. It felt like her lungs were frozen, that each time she exhaled she contributed more to the frigid environment, that this was all she had known and all she ever would know. If she were a mage she might have been able to conjure fire - she'd taken even a spark just then. A mournful groan left her lips as she forced her feet, one in front of the other, on unfamiliar, treacherous ground. Even with all the solitary hunts she'd been on for her clan, she had never felt so alone. It seemed like she wouldn't even be able to attract wolves to her vulnerable prey self at this point. Tears froze in their ducts, trapped, like her.

'This is hopeless,' she thought to herself, falling down to her knees then fully prone for what felt like the hundredth time. If she could only rest her eyes for a moment, then everything would be so much clearer.

_"Mala suledin,"_ the voice interrupted. She realised now it was the same one as made her get up last time - the one she had clean forgotten about until the moment she heard it again. It was clear, calm, it created a warmth that unfortunately wasn't tangible but fired her morale. Her body shifted on the snowy ground, feet scrambling unevenly to find purchase. She heaved herself to sitting and squinted painfully at the distance. It almost seemed to have a green sheen to it now. Of course, Hana had no idea that she was somehow wavering between two realities.

" _Ghilan?"_ she called out, stiff legs now having to cut through swathes of snow rather that step over it. If nothing else, that meant she was getting to lower ground. Probably.

Solas held himself back, despite having greater power than he was showing. He had no desire to show himself to her so that she would recognise him. A faceless, nameless helped held power - and he wasn't entirely sure what power he as Solas would have to entice her to keep on fighting. For now, he would hold a part of her consciousness in the Fade even as he tried to push the majority of it out. It was the best way he could think to protect her mentally from the effects of what she was going through, and the only way he could manipulate the narrative to get her home. Her intent was wrapped around getting through the storm and to her newly adopted people, and it was creating a snowstorm that reflected the real world perfectly. Solas didn't need to change that, but what he could create was a beacon. He wanted light, and hope, and to guide. He focused hard on the direction, hoping the unpredictable nature of the Fade since the Veil was placed on it would adopt his will smoothly.

"So much for grace," Hana spat at herself, words barely audible between chattering teeth. She focused her gaze on that strange, shifting, almost green-ish light in the distance, pulled her useless arm to her side amidst a swallowed scream of pain, and forced her legs ever onwards.

*** *** ***

Hours, it felt like hours she had been trying to move round the frozen wasteland, and that beacon seemed never to get any closer. Solas did everything he could to cajole, prod and wake Hana's Fade form, but any confident amusement he had felt earlier as she had parroted something he had mentioned about her grace had now given way to a concerned concentration. He watched as she walked just yards before tripping, and saw her disappointment when she discovered an extinguished campfire - still warm - but with not enough to give her body vital heat.

" _Ma ghilan, garas quenathra_?" she asked, desperately, as her legs sunk into a two-foot snow drift. Why would he be here, this spirit, unless it was to wait for her physical body to fade? She stopped and collapsed back on the snow, just utterly, utterly exhausted. " _Mir'athas enadin'an_?"

Solas stepped forward, for the first time exposing a form - still unrecognisable - in the terrible storm. He crouched before her, his knowledge of proceedings allowing him to step atop to snowdrift as if it were solid ground. Yet he didn't touch - couldn't, for her consciousness was still only partially in the Fade. If he were to touch her it may pull her in too far and he fully realised that that may well spell the end for her physical body. Instead he crouched before her, the perfect impression of a stranger. " _Nadas melana sahlin_ ," he insisted, not wanting her to consider his presence an excuse to give up for a single moment. " _Mala suledin._ " He shuffled back as she tried to get more life into her body, more strength to pull herself out. 

"I can't," she uttered, her voice cracking, even as she rocked forward to try to work herself free. 

"Malas." 

Solas broke his rule, his fingers closing round Hana's arms in a visual display of support. Of course, he couldn't really yank her free from her predicament, couldn't do anything about her journey really, but he could show her, and as a last ditch effort he reached out with his magic, warmth against her soul that wouldn't thaw her limbs but might just remind her of her aim. Hana looked down at the hands, looked up towards his face, though he had thought he'd kept it veiled, and set her jaw. For a moment he thought she was going to punch him, but instead she propelled herself from her early grave and as she staggered forward she propelled herself from his grasp and that of the Fade. Solas was there alone, in the madness of the mist and the wind and the snow.

She was so close.

*** *** ***

In a moment Solas was awake and on his feet almost before his eyes were fully open. He jogged towards the edge of the camp where Hana's advisers were gathering and increasing chatter suggested something was afoot. Hope bloomed in his chest at the increasing frenzy as he got up to the camp's perimeter. No doubt his presence will have been missed the past hour he had been away, but if it meant Hana's return it would be worth it. He was Fen'Harel - he could withstand a few crass remarks and accusations from the likes of Seeker Pentaghast.

"There, it's her!" called the blonde commander.

Solas exchanged a glance with the suspicious-looking Cassandra before she uttered her thanks to her deity and took off at a run. While he did have an urge to run up to see for himself what kind of state Hana was in, he had to make a show of being the designated healer. The others were no doubt spent from the evening's activities so far and he had to be there to make sure the mark was preserved. Even as he thought it, he knew that that was a half truth. He had to make sure that surprising, tenacious, gracious elf was okay.

"Here, I have a bedroll here, I'll get to work," he told Cullen as he got back to the camp with the Dalish woman in his arms. Magic flared in Solas' hands to punctuate his point, and there was little argument from the group gathered round, each calculating Hana's life in their own terms: morale for the people, hope for the Divine, success of the Inquisition. He wasn't innocent of that, but he found his greatest desire was simply to have another one of those fascinating, in-depth conversations with her about things she ought to have no interest or judge without reason. "I will need space," he told them in no certain terms.

"We need her alive, apostate," Cassandra all but spat, the tension of the situation apparently affecting her ability to play nice. 

"So you must let me work. I preserved her life once, I can do it again."

A harrumph and the trio left him to his duties. He knelt by Hana's side, taking a freezing hand and first injecting some of the same warmth he had used in the Fade, except this was real and so sweet a sensation to the Dalish woman's body.

She stirred, and rose up slightly, Solas' hands automatically going round to support her back and shoulders. Their eyes met and Solas watched as recognition burned in them. " _Ma ghilan_?" she uttered, the beginnings of a smile forming before she fell unconscious against his waiting hands, her body begging for the attention of a healer even as her spirit strove to battle on.

Surprising she remembered ... interesting if she still did so once she had fully regained her senses. But he could deal with all that that meant later.

**Author's Note:**

> Elven crib sheet (note some of it I tried to bodge together from known canon elven and I am no linguist)
> 
> Mala Suledin = You must endure
> 
> Ghilan = Guide
> 
> Ma ghilan, garas quenathra? = My guide, my are you here?
> 
> Mir'athas enadin'an? = Have you come to lead me to death?
> 
> Nadas melana sahlin = Your time has not come


End file.
